


Roots

by wilddragonflying



Series: The Rose of Adversity [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (just to find Hank's sex toys), AO3 where are your priorities, Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Barebacking, Bondage, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Face Slapping, Face-Sitting, Handcuffs, Hank Anderson Has a Big Dick, Improvised Sex Toys, Kink Negotiation, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, More Of A, Multiple Orgasms, Not exactly a, Not quite sure that fits but throwing it in here to be safe, Not-really-unsafe Unsafe Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, Power Bottom, Power Bottom Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Safewords, Sex Toys, Trans Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex, Vibe in Ass, but still not quite that, huh there's not a tag for that, misuse of Police equipment, not used but it's there, sneaky connor, speaking of, surprise feels, that's also not a tag?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 13:01:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19441969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: Got something to celebrate. You free tonight?Connor chews on his lip, waiting for Hank’s response. The past several weeks have been some of the best in a long time - since he was in school, definitely. Hank’s interesting, intriguing in a way most things around here aren’t. Connor hadn’t expected him to go along with his proposal that first night - no matter how hopeful he was, writing his number on that scrap of paper beforehand - and he certainly hadn’t expected the movie invitation.Connor still wasn’t sure what to make of that, to be honest; he’d thought Hank was being coy, had expected him to reach for Connor once the lights were dark and everyone was distracted by the movie, but he’d seemed content to watch the movie himself.At least, until Connor had escalated things. That memory still features prominently in his fantasies when he jacks off.





	Roots

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up being WAY longer than initially planned.....

**_Got something to celebrate. You free tonight?_ **

Connor chews on his lip, waiting for Hank’s response. The past several weeks have been some of the best in a long time - since he was in school, definitely. Hank’s _interesting,_ intriguing in a way most things around here aren’t. Connor hadn’t expected him to go along with his proposal that first night - no matter how hopeful he was, writing his number on that scrap of paper beforehand - and he certainly hadn’t expected the movie invitation. 

Connor still wasn’t sure what to make of that, to be honest; he’d thought Hank was being coy, had expected him to reach for Connor once the lights were dark and everyone was distracted by the movie, but he’d seemed content to watch the movie himself. 

At least, until Connor had escalated things. That memory still features prominently in his fantasies when he jacks off. 

Their first time does, too, as well as the time Connor had convinced Hank to fuck him in the bathroom of The Bloody Mary, bent over the toilet, braced against the back wall with the sound of Hank’s cock fucking him wet and sloppy echoing in the tiny space, barely audible over the thumping music from the main room. Hank hadn’t come in him again since that first night, only ever coming in his mouth if Connor insisted on it, but tonight… Well, Connor’s been on T for years, he’s got his birth control prescription as back up,, and he’s got a morning after pill recommended by his doctor tucked away in his bag just to be extra certain. All he needs now is Hank. 

Hank doesn’t keep him waiting for long. **_I get off shift at eleven. Working the late one tomorrow; what’re we celebrating?_ **

**_It’s a surprise. Mind if I come over? Nines is planning to have Reed over tonight, I think._ **

**_Ew. Yeah, come on over. Feed Sumo for me?_ **

**_Like you even have to ask me to take care of him._ **

Connor’s already on his way out the door as he replies, pausing with his hand on the door when Nines calls out, “You heading out to meet your fuckbuddy?”

“Maybe I just want to get away from you and yours,” Connor retorts, lifting an eyebrow. “You two are disgusting.”

“Not as disgusting as you and the sheriff, and we’re not fuckbuddies, we’re dating,” Nines answers, grinning when Connor splutters. 

“ _How did you know who he is?_ ” he demands. He’s never even said Hank’s name in Nines’s presence!

“North saw you two at the Bloody Mary the other week,” Nines answers, raising an eyebrow. “She said you went into the bathroom together and then came out together, and you had _quite_ the bruise on your neck.”

Connor huffs. “It’s none of your business if I want to fuck the sheriff,” he says. “I haven’t said anything about Reed, have I?”

“Besides ‘what the fuck do you see in him?’ No, you haven’t. So consider this my one and only comment.” Nines’s expression turns serious, and Connor pauses, gives him his full attention. He and Nines haven’t always had the best relationship, but they’ve always been there for each other when it mattered. 

“Alright, go on, then.”

“Be careful. He’s a lot older than you, Connor; he might not want the same things you do. I don’t want you getting hurt in any way.”

Connor bites back the first retort that rises to his lips, instead nodding. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he promises. 

“Good. Be safe, too. I’m sure I don’t need to lecture _you_ on safe sex.”

Connor laughs. “I’m being as safe as I can,” he reassures Nines. “Anything else you want to get off your chest, worrywart?”

“Nope. Now get the fuck out of here so I can clean up a bit before Reed gets here.”

* * *

Connor gets to Hank’s place around eight, grinning when he steps up to the front door and Sumo starts barking on the other side. “Alright, hold on,” he calls, laughing as he digs for the spare key to let himself in. “I’m coming, you big lug.”

He manages to get the door open and fend Sumo off long enough to shut and lock it behind himself before he drops to his knees, bracing himself and opening his arms for Sumo to barrel into. “Who’s a good boy?” he croons, scrubbing his hands roughly over Sumo, grinning when the dog leans into it. “You are, aren’t you? Yes, you are!” He spends several minutes there in the entryway petting Sumo before he finally straightens, nudging Sumo out of the way with his knee as he heads for the garage and the back door that leads to the fenced-in backyard. “C’mon, lemme get the door open and let you out.”

Sumo bounds out into the darkness, sniffing along the fenceline as Connor leaves the door open behind him, heading back into the kitchen to get his bowl ready, mixing in some of the veterinarian-prescribed supplemental wet food as Hank had shown him the first time he’d come over. He’s only been to Hank’s house twice before, and he’s never snooped, but… Well, he’s got a couple of hours until Hank’s home, after all. A little bit of _looking_ isn’t going to do any harm, so long as he doesn’t _touch_ anything, move it out of place. 

Once Sumo’s come back inside, Connor shuts and locks the back door and garage door, leaving Sumo to his food as he turns his attention to Hank’s bedroom. He hasn’t been in Hank’s bedroom before; the last times he’s been here, they never made it any further than the bathroom before Connor had to leave. He’s curious about Hank’s bedroom, and the door’s already open, he reasons. 

He still treads lightly, carefully; he doesn’t want to disturb anything. The closet door is hanging open, and that’s the first place Connor peeks into; he can’t help but snicker at the confirmation that all of Hank’s wardrobe appears to be just as horrendous as he’d thought. Leaving the closet alone, Connor turns his attention to the rest of the bedroom; the bed is almost big enough to qualify as ‘enormous,’ and looks comfortable. It’s unmade, the sheets rumpled and tossed all over the place, and Connor can’t help a grin; it doesn’t surprise him that Hank’s not really the type to make the bed every time he gets up for the day. 

The headboard catches his attention next, and Connor feels his grin widen. There are posts in the headboard base, perfect for tying someone to, and Connor makes a mental note. He’d had quite the set of bruises around his own wrists after that first night, and Connor can’t help but wonder if Hank would be averse to being the one wearing the cuffs. Stepping closer, Connor sees that the drawer in the nightstand with the alarm clock - the one, presumably, closer to the side of the bed that Hank uses most often - is cracked, just enough to look inside of. 

Connor hesitates; he knows the kind of shit he keeps in _his_ nightstand; Hank probably keeps the same in his. He probably shouldn’t look, he tells himself even as he steps forward, closer. This is skirting the edge of outright snooping, inexcusable by ‘the door was open.’ It’s not enough to stop him, however; he leans forward, bends over and digs out his phone, using the flashlight to get a better look inside. He’s not going to open the drawer, he reminds himself, tucking his free hand behind his back just to be sure. He’s just indulging in some harmless curiosity. 

Some harmless curiosity that’s rewarded when he spots a small, slick black device in the drawer, next to a recognizable bottle. Connor sucks in a breath, heat flashing in his gut, and his mind immediately starts working. 

He can certainly _do things_ with that little black device.

* * *

Connor’s just come out of the bath when he hears Hank’s car pull into the driveway, hears Sumo start barking when Hank’s keys jiggle in the lock. Connor keeps the towel tucked around his waist, waits until he hears the door open and shut, hears Hank fussing over Sumo and Sumo plodding back over to his doggy bed. He waits until he hears Hank straighten with a groan, hears his keys hit the bowl on the table by the door before he saunters around the corner, leaning against the wall. “Evening, Hank.”

“Hey, Con - nor.” Hank blinks, and Connor lets a slow smirk curve his lips as Hank clears his throat. “Looks like you made yourself comfortable.”

“I did,” Connor hums, stepping forward, feeling the towel slip just slightly over his hip. “How was work?”

Even in the shadow of his beard, the movement of Hank’s Adam’s apple as he swallows is easily seen. “Same as usual,” Hank says, and Connor tracks the way his gaze drifts over his chest, following the line of the towel. “You said you had something to celebrate?”

“I do,” Connor says, stepping closer, close enough to touch now. He reaches out, lightly drags the fingers of one hand up Hank’s arm, over his shoulder and down his chest until he can rest his palm over where he can feel Hank’s heart, slightly arrhythmic, beat beneath the skin. 

“What’re we celebrating?” Hank’s voice has dropped to a murmur, and when his hand comes to rest on Connor’s hip, just above the soft fabric of the towel, Connor doesn’t resist the delicate shudder that runs up and then back down his spine. 

“I got accepted into a program that will hopefully land me a job,” he hums, his other hand curling around Hank’s neck, fingers playing with the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. “Local college accepted me into the Teacher Education Program. Little more debt, but… I’ll probably come out of it with a job, doing something I like.”

Hank blinks. “The Teacher Education - you want to teach?”

Connor lifts one shoulder and lets it drop, an artfully careless shrug. “I considered it. Didn’t think it was what I wanted to pursue, but I’ve been thinking about it more, and… I like the idea. Figure if nothing else, I can get certified to do substitute teaching for the county, maybe the next one over, too. Keep me busy while I figure out what I _really_ want to do with my life.”

“Huh. Never pegged you for the teaching type, but… I can see it,” Hank hums. “That is something to celebrate.”

“Exactly.” The hand on Hank’s chest drops, finds one of Hank’s as he steps back, tugging Hank forward. “And I know _exactly_ how I want to celebrate tonight.”

Hank laughs, but goes along easily. “Do you, now?”

Connor leads Hank into his bedroom, pauses for Hank to shut the door behind them to make sure Sumo doesn’t barge in, and then turns them so that Hank’s back is to the bed, and pushes Hank down to sit, undoing the knot on the towel around his waist and letting it drop before climbing into Hank’s lap. “I’ve been thinking about this for _weeks,_ ” he confesses, hands skimming over Hank’s belly and chest, curving around his neck to pull him into a searing kiss. “Remember our first time?”

“How could I forget?” Hank retorts, his own hands settling on Connor’s waist; Connor likes the confidence, likes it just as much as he’d like the hesitance that had marked their first couple of fucks, when Hank hadn’t been sure what was allowed and what wasn’t. But right now, Connor wants Hank’s hands somewhere else.

“You used _these -_ “ Connor reaches down with one hand, slips the pair of cuffs off of Hank’s belt to dangle them from a finger “ - on me. Pulled on them so hard I had bruises for a _week._ I loved it,” he adds quickly when Hank’s mouth opens, probably to apologize _again_ for bruises Connor had eagerly welcomed. “But I want to try them on you this time.”

Hank’s still beneath him, and Connor waits him out, patient; this is something he’s been fantasizing about for a while, and a little bit of time for Hank to think it over isn’t going to kill Connor now. He’s rewarded for his patience with a nod and a soft, barely-there, “Alright.”

Connor grins, beams at Hank and leans in for another kiss, sliding off of Hank’s lap and to the side. “Much as I love that uniform on you, you’ll probably want it off,” he suggests with a smirk when Hank looks at him questioningly. Hank, to his credit, doesn’t do anything except roll his eyes and get to his feet, undressing and hanging up his uniform with a brisk efficiency that isn’t intended to be sexy, but captures Connor’s attention nonetheless. 

When Hank comes back to the bed, depositing the key for the handcuffs on the nightstand, Connor draws him in for another kiss, nipping at his lower lip and deepening the kiss when Hank gasps, eventually breaking it to urge Hank onto his back in the middle of the bed. He brackets Hank’s hips with his knees, leaning over him to guide Hank’s hands up, close enough to the headboard for him to click the cuffs in place, loosely around Hank’s wrists and threaded around one post. They’re loose enough that if Hank tucked his thumb in and pulled, he could slip out of them with maybe a scrape. 

“You want me to grab the key, you tell me ‘roses,’” Connor says, bracing himself over Hank, expression serious.

Hank nods, his own expression just as serious. “Okay,” he says, a verbal confirmation. He relaxes against the mattress, shifting slightly under Connor. “So. I’m guessing you have a plan for me?”

Connor sits back on his heels, eyeing Hank with a smirk. “Oh, _so_ many plans,” he confirms. “Starting with this.” He crawls up the bed, settles himself over Hank’s face, and glances down, waiting for Hank to nod before he lowers himself to Hank’s mouth, sighing when he feels the first drag of Hank’s tongue across his slit. “ _Fuck,_ I love your mouth,” he murmurs, reaching down the thread his fingers through Hank’s hair, tugging lightly just to feel Hank growl against him. 

He laughs, the sound turning into a moan when Hank’s tongue dips into his folds, drags over his hole and swirls around his cock. “ _Yeah,_ ” he breathes, letting his hips roll, pressing in closer to Hank. “Right there, Hank.” Hank licks over his cock, takes the length of it in his mouth and suckles, and Connor whines when he feels the bare hint of teeth against sensitive skin, letting Hank work him up, higher and higher until he’s cresting the peak, coming into Hank’s mouth with a sharp cry, bracing himself on the headboard and lifting his hips so that he doesn’t suffocate Hank and to get his oversensitive cock away from Hank’s mouth for a moment. 

Hank grins up at him, Connor’s slick shining wet across his mouth and beard. “I love watching you come apart on my mouth,” he says, licking his lips because he _knows_ what effect it has on Connor. “You make the prettiest goddamn noises, sweetheart.”

Connor laughs breathlessly, shifting until he’s straddling Hank’s hips once more, leaning down to kiss Hank, lick the taste of himself out of Hank’s mouth. “That’s good, but it’s not all I have planned,” he murmurs.

“Oh yeah?” Hank huffs. “What else were you thinking of doing tonight?”

“Well,” Connor drawls, leaning over. “I was looking around a bit earlier - “

“You were being nosey,” Hank interprets, laughing when Connor scowls at him.

“I was _looking around,_ ” Connor continues, reaching into the still-cracked drawer and grabbing the lube and device out of it, “and saw these.”

Hank freezes under him when he realizes what Connor’s got in his hand. “What’re you - I thought I shut that!”

“You did, just… not all the way,” Connor says, dropping the lube by his knee and straightening. He’s got a vibrator in his hand, one end a wide base with a large bead at the bottom, several smaller ones stacked on top. It curves, and Connor skims his fingers along the curve, smirking when Hank’s eyes follow the movement. There’s a remote as well, connected to the base through a long wire, and Connor toys idly with it for a moment. “It was open just enough for me to see this. I was kind of surprised, but… We could have some fun with this, if you wanted.”

Hank’s quiet for a moment, his gaze flicking from the toy in Connor’s hands to Connor’s face and back, but eventually - he nods. “Alright,” he says, hips squirming under Connor, his cock fattening in interest. “What are you thinking?”

“Well,” Connor says slowly, lifting himself onto his knees so he can readjust himself, settle between Hank’s legs. “I was thinking I work this into you, and then ride you until you cry and come inside of me, fill me up.”

“Connor, I know you’re on T, but that’s not an effective birth control.”

“I know, and so does my doctor,” Connor says patiently. “I have a prescription for birth control, I’ve been on it since before we started this. And I’ve got a morning after pill, as well. I’ve thought this through, Hank. If _you_ don’t want to, then I’ll grab a condom, too. But I want to ride you bare tonight, if you’re okay with that.”

Hank considers that for another moment before finally nodding, and Connor doesn’t try to stop his grin, unable to help leaning forward to kiss Hank slow and deep. He straightens after a moment, sliding back until he’s got a good view of Hank’s cock and ass. He settles the toy on the bed, just out of the way but still in reach, and reaches for the lube with one hand while he strokes Hank’s cock with the other. “Fuck, I can’t wait to have this in me again,” he murmurs, unable to resist tonguing at the slit, gathering the precome beading there on his tongue and swallowing it. “I think I might honestly be addicted to your cock.”

Hank huffs out a laugh from above him. “I guess there are worse things to be addicted to?”

Connor hums in agreement, shifting his attention from Hank’s cock to his balls, taking one gently in his mouth and then the other, palming them when he pulls back - and then he uncaps the lube, pours a generous amount into his palm. He warms it for a moment before he slowly drags the pads of his fingers over the furled skin of Hank’s hole, smiling at the shuddering breath Hank lets out, the way that Hank visibly forces himself to relax under Connor’s hand on his hip. “That’s it,” Connor hums, rubbing a slow circle and waiting for Hank to relax further before he pushes in. “Breathe for me, Hank.”

“I know how to take a finger up the ass,” Hank retorts, but there’s no heat to his voice, and he does as Connor suggests, taking an exaggeratedly deep breath and letting it out slowly - when he relaxes under Connor’s hand, he pushes in gently with his finger, barely making to the first knuckle before he pulls back out. “ _Shit,_ ” Hank breathes, head tossed back against the pillow, and Connor hides his smile in the inside of Hank’s thigh, pressing a kiss to the soft flesh there. 

He sets up a rhythm, waiting until Hank’s used to one finger before he adds a second, working him open in slow, easy strokes, adding in more lube as needed. The sheets will need to be changed, but that’s a small price to pay for an orgasm that’ll blow Hank’s mind, Connor figures. By the time he deems Hank ready for the toy, Hank’s hands are twisting in the cuffs, fingers clenching on nothing and the muscles in his arms flexing as his legs shift restlessly around Connor.

“I’ve got you,” Connor soothes, reaching for the toy with one hand and the bottle of lube in the other, squeezing out the last bit over the toy, slicking it up eagerly. “ _Fuck,_ Hank, I can’t wait to hear the kind of noises you make while I’m riding you,” he sighs, guiding the tip of the toy to Hank’s hole, rocking it gently against him, fucking him with the toy as he works it in. Hank whines when the first ridged bead slides in, moans at the second, and whimpers at the third. By the time Connor’s worked it in to the base, Hank’s lost what remained of his self-control, alternately whining and growling at Connor in an attempt to get him to hurry up.

Connor, however, says and does nothing - except to reach for the remote to the toy, clicking it on at the third-lowest setting. Hank _shouts,_ a beautiful noise that echoes about the room, and Connor smirks, flicking the intensity up one more notch and then back down, rocking the heel of his palm against the toy until Hank cries out, until he’s sure that it’s nudged right up against Hank’s prostate. 

“There we go,” he purrs, pleased, as he sets the remote aside where it won’t get hit or tangled around his or Hank’s leg. “Now. I believe I said something about riding you until you cry?”

“ _Please,_ ” Hank gasps, the metal of the cuffs jangling when his hands jerk, like Hank forgot that his hands were bound for a moment in his eagerness to touch Connor. “Connor, baby, _sweetheart,_ please don’t make me wait any longer.”

Well, now, how can Connor resist a plea as sweet as that?

He swings a leg over Hank’s hips, settles himself over Hank’s cock, not sitting down just yet. “God, you look so good like this,” he says, praises Hank as he cups one hand against himself, dips his fingers between his folds to gather his own slick, use that hand to pump Hank’s cock once, hold him steady as Connor sinks down onto him. “ _Shit,_ ” he breathes, head tossed back as his hips twitch, rocking in small movements as he adjusts to the stretch. He _loves_ the burn of taking Hank’s cock with minimal prep, loves the way it feels like Hank’s _claiming_ him. And in a way, he is; no one will _ever_ fuck him like this, Connor’s sure of it. Hank Anderson’s left his mark on Connor for all eternity, and Connor couldn’t be happier about it.

He pauses when he’s finally fully seated, his ass flush against Hank’s hips, taking a moment to savor the stretch and fullness, the way he swears he can feel Hank right up in his gut. If he pressed a hand to his stomach as he lifts up and sinks back down, he bets he could feel Hank fucking him from the outside, feel the way Hank’s cock makes room for itself inside of Connor, fills him all the way up and then some. 

Connor takes his time setting up a rhythm, savors the view of Hank laid out beneath him as he does so, the burn in his thighs as he increases the pace, starts bouncing on Hank’s dick more than _riding_ him. He circles his hips, leans back, tilts his hips to catch just the right angle and - 

“ _Fuck!_ ” he cries out, grip tightening where he’s braced himself on Hank’s thighs; he knows his nails are digging into Hank’s skin, leaving little crescent marks in the flesh beneath them, but he can’t find it in him to care, not when he can repeat the motion, have Hank’s cock dragging up against him in all the right ways even when Hank’s hips jerk and Hank cries out, the faint buzz of the toy in his ass a constant undertone to their fucking. 

Hank’s noises pick up their pace and volume, and with a gasp, Connor shifts himself forward, until he’s braced on one elbow on Hank’s chest, gripping his chin with one hand and none-too-lightly slapping him across the cheek with the other. “Don’t you dare come just yet, Hank,” he orders, forces Hank to meet his gaze as he works himself on Hank’s cock, pushes himself harder, faster. “Don’t you dare fucking come until I do, do you hear me?”

“I hear you,” Hank gasps, hands clenched tight into fists above his head, his hips jerking under Connor. “But I - _Shit,_ honey, you feel so good, so tight and hot around me, I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last.”

“Not much longer,” Connor pants, reaching down between them with the hand he’d used to slap Hank, circle his cock with his thumb and forefinger and stroke himself quickly, push himself closer to orgasm. “Not much longer, I’m almost there, I just - just - _Hank!_ ”

Hank’s name morphs into a broken cry as Connor comes, losing all semblance of rhythm as he slams himself down, taking Hank to the hilt and grinding against him, riding the wave of his orgasm as far as he can push it. 

Dimly, he’s aware of Hank speaking, begging him to come, and Connor lifts himself just enough to nip at Hank’s jaw through his beard, brush his nose over the curve of Hank’s cheek. “Come on, come in me,” he whispers, and that’s all it takes for Hank to spill with a hoarse shout, hips jerking as he tries in vain to bury himself deeper in Connor, Connor who lays across his chest and rolls his hips, buries his face in the crook of Hank’s neck as he swears he feels Hank come in long spurts, fill him up even more than before. 

Connor feels just about boneless after that, but when Hank makes a pained noise, squirming under Connor, he reaches for the key on the nightstand, undoing one set of cuffs and handing the key to Hank to let himself out of the other as Connor reaches down, flicks the still-vibrating toy off and carefully eases it from Hank’s ass, tossing it to one side of the bed before resettling himself against Hank’s chest. He hums in satisfaction when Hank’s arms wrap around him, curls in closer and wraps one arm around Hank, lifting the other hand to card through hank’s hair. “You did so good for me,” he murmurs, tilting his head up to press a soft kiss to Hank’s mouth, letting it linger when Hank tilts his head and presses in closer. “So good, listening to me so well.”

Hank chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and against Connor’s. “Glad to hear it,” he mumbles, already half-asleep. “Next time warn me that you might slap me, though.”

“Sorry,” Connor hums, twining his legs with Hank’s, studiously ignoring the mess they’ve made of the bed and themselves for now. _Sleep first,_ he decides, _and we can shower later._ “It was spur of the moment; I won’t let it happen again.”

“I liked it,” Hank elaborates around a yawn, “just don’t want it to be a surprise next time.”

 _Next time,_ Connor muses, sleep already pulling at the edges of his mind. 

That carries a lot of promise with it. 

He likes it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hank's vibrator, for those curious:  
> https://www.adameve.com/adult-sex-toys/vibrators/anal-vibrators/sp-tinglers-vibrating-butt-plug-92380.aspx


End file.
